


Basement Apartment Hiding Place

by venusinthenight



Category: Elementary (TV)
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Asian-American Character, Black Male Character, Canon Character of Color, Ficlet, Gen, Interracial Relationship, Tumblr Ask Box Fic, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-14
Updated: 2015-03-14
Packaged: 2018-03-17 18:19:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3539330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/venusinthenight/pseuds/venusinthenight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Things you said with no space between us.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Basement Apartment Hiding Place

**Author's Note:**

  * For [language_escapes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/language_escapes/gifts).



> Prompt #16 [on this prompt list](http://venusinthenight.tumblr.com/post/113507109693/send-me-a-ship-and-one-of-these-and-ill-write-a): Things you said with no space between us.
> 
> Recommended listening: [Sarah Harmer - Basement Apt.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eN2TL59FCQg) (Pretty fitting song for Joan at this point, I think.)

“You live down here now?” Marcus asks the first time he visits Joan in the Brownstone basement.

“Yeah,” she replies. “It’s not lavish, I know, but —”

“It’s okay. If you feel more at home here than at your old apartment now, that’s the important thing, right?”

Joan doesn’t answer. She’s busy eying drinks in the refrigerator — milk, a pitcher of filtered water, leftover fruit smoothie from that morning, a few bottles of beer — when Marcus sidles up next to her. “ _Do_ you feel at home down here?” he asks in earnest.

She turns to face him, their bodies closer in proximity than usual, her eyes projecting a mixture of anxiety, sadness, and torture — anxiety about giving an answer, sadness because she knows she’s not really at home in the Brownstone but doesn’t want her old apartment back, and the torture that continues to permeate her being because of every death she feels responsible for and the fact she suspects Marcus has long twigged to this.

“I don’t know what home is anymore,” she manages to whisper, her throat catching.

Marcus leans in and says, in a soft voice, “You’ll find it again. If you want, I can help you.”


End file.
